A Song of Modern Love
by MissingEden
Summary: As far as Harry Potter is concerned, Draco Malfoy is and always has been nothing but trouble. And if he's being nice, he's up to something...isn't he? Draco/Harry.
1. Caring is Creepy

**Disclaimer**: Three guesses what I'm going to put here.

_(A/N: Hereby deeming my previous attempt at slash at least moderately successful (by my own very, very low standards) I present to you another one. I couldn't quite bring myself to write something quite so depressing again, and I don't have the skill to write long stories in the first person (insofar as I am aware) this is going to be monumentally different. _

_On the actual story: Here we have a moderately alternate universe. And when I say moderately, I mean it. Aside from the obvious (because unless I missed what would have been the best chapter ever, Harry/Draco has not and will never happen in canon) I have made very few changes as yet (Snape's still teaching potions 'cause he's waaaay more interesting than Slughorn, for example). It's set in sixth year (yeah, they're minors; oh my god, guess what, teenagers have sex!). If you're still confused or need to know whether a certain event happened, REVIEW ME and I will be more than happy to clear it up for you._

_And if you actually read all that, consult a nearby psychiatrist. There may be something wrong with you.)_

* * *

Chapter 1: Caring is Creepy

_I think I'll go home and mull this over_

_before I cram it down my throat_

_--The Shins

* * *

_

_Sweat. That was the first thing. The pressure, the feeling in the pit of his stomach like it was being doused with ice-water, the sudden rush of blood. The pain was the last thing on his mind, and it had eased after a minute anyway. _

_His pale skin. His eyes focused, determined, but flickering slightly with the intensity of his arousal. More than passionate. Fierce. Animalistic._

_The taste of his tongue. The weight of his body._

"_Draco…" The name left his lips as a whisper, a near-silent exhalation instantly followed by a sharp intake of breath. "I—"_

"All right, Harry?" Ron Weasley said suspiciously.

"What? Oh…yeah." Harry shifted his sheets in order to hide the certain something he'd left on them from view. "Just…er…dreaming."

A faint line of worry creased Ron's face. "Not…one of _those_ dreams, right?" he said in a low voice.

Despite the fact that this was a perfectly reasonable question, as Harry's dreams had developed the nasty little habit of actually happening, he found himself vaguely annoyed by it. "No," Harry said with a small frown. "Do you have to ask me that every morning?"

"Only when you're screaming like that," Ron answered. Harry flushed very slightly.

"It's nothing," Harry said stiffly.

Of that he was hardly sure. But he said it anyway.

OoOoOo

Even years later, Harry distinctly remembered the first time he'd caught himself staring at Draco Malfoy.

Potions. Professor Snape had, as usual, saddled them with some immensely complicated and irritating potion, and Harry had, as usual, been having a fairly difficult time of it. On this particular occasion, the activity was also astoundingly dull, comprised largely of long periods where you did nothing but stare into your cauldron waiting for it to turn just the right shade of puce.

Next to him, Hermione Granger was gazing intently at her cauldron without the slightest hint of boredom.

"Hermione," he began in a whisper, desperate for something to do, "do you—"

"I can't think of any conceivable reason why you should need to talk, Potter," Snape said from directly behind him, exercising his uncanny ability to move in complete silence. He glanced at Harry's cauldron; it had begun to smoke slightly, which as far as Harry knew it was not supposed to be doing. "I daresay you've other things to pay attention to." A swirl of black robes and he was back at his desk, assigning failing marks to a stack of essays as though he hadn't gotten up at all.

Harry sighed, but didn't look back at his cauldron. His emerald eyes scanned the room aimlessly for something of interest, settling on someone at the next table over.

_How does he get his hair that bloody blond?_

His wristwatch ticked away the impossibly lengthy seconds.

_It's kind of cool._

Tick.

_He's looks different when he's doing something other than terrorizing people._

Tick.

_Sort of…good, actually._

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

And then Draco looked up. And slowly, deliberately, as though testing to see how long it could possibly take him and how suggestive he could possibly make it look, he smiled.

Harry jumped, crashing into the table behind him and sending the contents of his own cauldron flying.

"Detention, Potter," Snape said in a bored tone.

OoOoOo

"I'm only saying it must have been _something_," Hermione said defensively several hours later.

"It's _Snape_," said Ron, feeling this was its own explanation. "Since when does he need a reason to be an arse?"

"Teachers don't just—Harry?"

Harry did not answer.

_That's not what's supposed to happen. He's not supposed to _smile_ at me. He's supposed to tell on me or tell me to bugger off or throw something at me or do any of the other stupid, irritating things he's been doing for the last six years. Then things would make sense again. Then I wouldn't—_

"—and you've said about two words all day," Hermione finished, giving Harry the impression that she'd been talking for some time without his noticing. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine," Harry said firmly. Then he seemed to rethink the question. "Actually, I've got a headache. I'm going to get some air."

"Harry—"

He didn't wait for the rest of the sentence.

OoOoOo

Strangely enough, the best place Harry had found to "get some air" was in fact inside the castle.

_I need somewhere to think_, he thought intently as he paced the seventh floor corridor, checking the blank stretch of wall facing him every few seconds. _I need to be alone. I need somewhere where no one will bother me…_

"Shouldn't you be in bed, Potter?"

Harry forced himself not to react.

"Shouldn't you be finding someone else to annoy, Malfoy?"

"After all the trouble I took following you? Don't think I will, thanks. What are you doing here?" His tone was pleasant, almost conversational.

_Not like him at all…_

"Why were you following me?"

Draco grinned, but didn't say anything, which was somehow even more exasperating.

"What do you _want?_"

"Well," he answered thoughtfully, "First, because…I suppose I find you interesting. And the second…I expect you'll work that one out on your own."

_What is he on about?_

"Malfoy—"

"Goodnight, Potter. Don't stay out too late."

"Malfoy!"

But with that same perplexing smile, he turned a corner and was gone.

It was quite possibly the first time Harry had ever been sorry to see the back of him.

* * *

_(a further A/N: Ha, you though I was done, didn't you? Wrong. I am not. Just wanted to say you may have an e-cookie if you get the main title reference without resorting to Google.)_


	2. Crushcrushcrush

**Disclaimer: **Psssst. I'm not J.K. Rowling. Pass it on.

_(A/N: Hurrah! My mom has stopped unplugging poor, innocent little Jeff (my computer, in case you are sane and do not name all your inanimate objects) and we are back online! Rejocify! _

_Or not._

_Anyhow, I'm trying to update once a week and barring some horrific incident (which will probably be Jeff-related) I will actually be keeping that schedule. Or crying myself to sleep at night. One or the other. _

_Also, thank you to xKeiriax,_ _Tinuviel Simbelmyne, emosk8erpunkrockerfreak, fifespice, and NatureLvrKittz for the splendid and worthwhile reviews. You are fab beyond reason, really...)_

* * *

Chapter 2: Crushcrushcrush 

_If you want to play it like a game_

_Well come on, come on let's play_

_'Cause I'd rather waste my life pretending_

_Than have to forget you for one whole minute..._

_--Paramore_

* * *

There was in fact very little difference between rotten flobberworms and fresh ones.

"Professor," began Harry in a voice that was somewhat strained with the repressed desire to hex the Potions Master severely, "I've finished—"

"Pressing though your engagements undoubtedly are, Potter, my detentions do not end until they have actually been served." A quick motion from his wand and the two roughly even containers Harry had been sorting the slimy mess of ingredients into had gone back to one full and one empty. "And do it _correctly_ this time."

Harry sighed. This was more or less the way of every detention Snape had ever given him.

It was inconceivable that he'd only been there for twenty minutes.

_This is all Malfoy's fault_, he thought bitterly as he contemplated the freshness of the flobberworm presently sliming up his left hand. _Him and his stupid…looking at me…thing…_

Draco's smile hadn't left Harry's thoughts in over two days. He couldn't keep his focus; during Quidditch (a Bludger had nearly taken his head off twice before he'd even remembered he was on his broom); during lessons (he'd gotten double homework in both Charms and Transfiguration); even while eating (he'd spilled half his breakfast down his robes that morning), his mind was still on the strange and disconcerting feelings—

He shook his head vigorously. _Wrong word_, he corrected himself immediately. "Feelings" was certainly not a word which should ever be applied to Draco Malfoy. _More like…more like…_

He had no idea what it was like. He wasn't sure he wanted to find out.

Silently, and with as little thought as possible, he started to sort out the flobberworms. Again.

OoOoOo

"Four hours," Harry said to no one in particular as he checked his watch. Four hours sorting the same container of flobberworms. Four hours in the dungeons, which were freezing year-round, always at least moderately dank, never lit properly, and smelled perpetually and unidentifiably of some sort of odd must. Four hours in a small confined area with (aside from Voldemort) his least favorite person.

"You've got slime on you, Potter," said his third least favorite person.

Harry was in no mood. "Bugger off or I'll kill you," he said gruffly as he tried to push past.

Draco didn't budge. "You're in quite a mood."

Harry's hand went instantly to his wand. But Draco's didn't.

"Why—?" he began, but he couldn't think of much else. _He's not going to attack me_?

"Attack me if you want, Potter, but that's not what I came for."

_This is a trick. It has to be._

Very slowly, Draco raised his hand, palm up so Harry could see he didn't have his wand out. "See? Just there…" He ran a long finger down Harry's shirt front and stopped near the end of his tie.

Harry looked down. "I don't see—"

Draco lifted Harry's chin and kissed him very forcefully on the mouth.

Harry's eyes welded shut and his entire universe closed down for a good two minutes. When he opened them again, Draco was still kissing him. And he was kissing back.

_No. Bad. I hate him. _

But he didn't move. Because somehow it felt strangely good, strangely…_right_, and as Draco's arms folded around him, it felt nothing short of natural.

_No._

And even when Draco pulled away, Harry couldn't speak.

"I knew it," Draco breathed in Harry's ear, drawing the other boy close against his chest; Harry squeaked minutely. "When I saw you looking back; you've never looked back. I knew it. I was so—"

"N-No." He said it aloud this time. "You're—I don't—I'm not—_No!_"

"What?"

Draco stumbled backward as Harry pushed him harder than was necessary. "Leave me alone!"

"Wait! Potter, _wait_!"

Harry wouldn't have gone back for anything.

OoOoOo

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed worriedly. She and Ron were alone in the common room by the time Harry had sorted himself out enough to deal with his friends. "You've been ages! We were starting to—are you all right?"

"You look like shit, mate," said Ron. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.

Harry looked at the two of them. His two best friends, the two most loyal, caring people he'd ever met, two people who'd follow him to the ends of the earth, the two people he trusted more than anyone.

"I'm going to bed," he said miserably as he trudged up the dormitory stairs.

OoOoOo

"No, Potter," Snape said the next afternoon, his typical evil sneer unusually prominent. "I think I'll seat you somewhere less…distracting today."

Harry paused halfway through the act of settling his books next to Ron and Hermione. "Er…"

"You'll work with Malfoy today." The grin widened. "Perhaps he can teach you to do it properly."

"Professor—"

"Yes?" He eyed Harry with a look that clearly stated "I am about to dock your house more points than the mind can comfortably imagine".

"Er…nothing," said Harry quickly.

"Instructions are on the board." He sat down behind his desk and resumed his endless essay-correcting without another word.

Harry took the seat next to Draco with as much dignity as he could as he muster.

"Potter—"

"Could you hand me that scale, Malfoy?" Harry interrupted.

"I'm not handing you anything, Potter. Tell me why you ran."

"I'm not talking about that here."

"You've avoided me everywhere else. This is the only time I've got you to stay still long enough to get a word in."

"Has it occurred to you that I don't want a word?"

A light pressure exerted itself on Harry's thigh.

"Take your hand off me, Malfoy."

"What if I don't?" Draco mused. "What if I…"

Blood filled Harry's mouth as he bit his tongue, forcefully repressing the gasp that threatened to rise from his throat. "What are you—st-stop!" He didn't dare raise his voice.

"I don't think you mind," Draco said lightly.

Harry tried to slide away, but at a shared desk there was nowhere for him to go. His eyes darted around the room, but no one had even noticed them talking, let alone what was going on now.

_Dammit…_

"You're making me miserable, Potter," Draco said quietly, his face impassive. "I can't keep my concentration. See what that's like?"

Harry kicked him under the table. Draco barely reacted, but his hand retreated to a more harmless area of Harry's body.

"That's how you want to play it, then?" He folded his arms and smiled. "All right. I don't mind a chase."

Harry was still breathing heavily. "I—I don't—I—"

"Yes," said Malfoy. "You mentioned that."

Harry put his face in his hands and sighed. He had suddenly got the feeling he was going to be needing a lot of air that night.

* * *

_(a further A/N: Didn't plan on the end of the chapter being quite so...er...questionable...but that's how it ended up. Just seemed the sort of thing Draco would do, at least the way I have him characterized. Also, an enquiry: On the whole, are there any objections to smut? I was planning on throwing some in over the next few chapters (Nothing horrifying, but there will be sex...and I will of course have to up the rating...). So if you stand firmly against it or something, I'll take it into consideration. Or if you stand firmly in support of it. I am very much on the fence about this. Please help me as fences are uncomfortatble to sit on and I am very clumsy and will probably fall and hurt my frail little self.)_


	3. It's Warmer in the Basement

**Disclaimer**: If you find that I happen to own Harry Potter in the universe where you live, please tell me how to get there.

_(a/n: I think the Gods are trying to teach me not to make promises. No sooner had I said I would be making consistent updates than my internets commited suicide. I have finally resorted to uploading this at school, which caused me no end of trouble, I can tell you...well, sorry for the horrific delay and try enjoy this, because I have no earthly idea when I'll be updating again.)_

* * *

Chapter 3: It's Warmer in the Basement

_You can't escape now_

_I've got you locked inside this room_

_You know I tip good_

_And soon you will love me too..._

_--Cobra Starship

* * *

_

"Are you _sure_—"

"_Yes_!" Harry said for what had to be the fortieth time that morning. "For god's sake, Hermione, I am _fine!_ Everything that could possibly be fine is fine! Now will you _please_ let me eat my breakfast in peace?"

Hermione blinked at him with a sort of dignified offense. "I was only asking."

"Well, _don't_ ask," Harry growled. "I don't need to be asked after. I'm fine."

"But you look ill," Hermione protested. "You've looked it for days, you should—"

Harry threw down his silverware, drawing odd looks from everyone close enough to hear it. "I do _not_ need to go to the hospital wing, Hermione. I'm not ill. The only thing I _am_ is annoyed that the pair of you can't go more than eight seconds with asking me another stupid question. Just _leave me alone_!"

Ron's eyes narrowed. "I don't care _what's_ wrong with you, don't talk to her like—"

"There is _nothing_ wrong with me!"

It took him a few seconds to realize he'd shouted that last bit. And that people were staring.

"There's nothing wrong with me," he repeated quietly.

"Could've fooled me," Ron muttered as Harry stalked out of the Great Hall.

OoOoOo

"You're amazingly predictable, you know that?"

Harry's nails bit into the flesh of his palms as they formed into colorless fists. He didn't look up. "How did you get in here?"

"How does anyone?" Draco shrugged. "I thought of what I wanted."

"I told it not to let anyone find me," said Harry in a low voice.

"I was very specific." His eyes narrowed suddenly and he grabbed Harry's wrist before he could get out the door. "Stay. I want to talk."

"Haven't I told you enough times? Leave me _alone,_" Harry growled as he tried pointlessly to free his arm. "Talking to you has caused enough problems. I haven't slept in ages, you know that? And Ron and Hermione—" He stopped, turning faintly red.

"I didn't realize I'd had such an effect," said Draco, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"Stop grinning like that!" said Harry crossly. "I didn't mean—it doesn't have anything to do with _you_!"

"Doesn't it?" said Draco. He hadn't stopped smiling.

"It's not funny!" Harry said with a very severe look. "My best friends haven't said a word to me all day because of _you_!"

"I thought you said it was nothing to do with me."

_He shouldn't be this close to me…_

His fingers brushed the side of Harry's face, the skin of his hands soft as though he'd never done more manual labor than it took to lift a quill. _And he probably hasn't._

"You're crying, Potter."

There was no point in denying this; he was tired and hungry and his friends were annoyed with him and it _really_ wasn't worth the effort.

Draco sighed. "I suppose it'd be a bit tactless to try and shag you at this point."

Harry scowled. "Why do you keep saying things like that?"

And then neither of them said anything for a very long time, because that would have involved Draco's tongue not being down Harry's throat.

Which of course it was.

"Why do you still think I'm joking?" Draco asked mildly. "And it occurs to me that I've never been big on tact. _Incarcerous_!"

Harry looked down at the thick ropes binding his wrists together and didn't like the conclusion he came to. "What are you playing at? Let me go!"

Draco laughed in a way that was not the least bit reassuring. "That wouldn't be any fun."

Harry shuddered as Draco's hands slid under his robes, drawing his bound arms up against his chest in an effort to defend himself against the intrusion.

"See?" Draco breathed into the hollow behind Harry's ear, "You say you don't want to, but look…"

Harry swallowed thickly, his body going rigid as Draco's fingers traced over the bulge in his trousers. "St…stop it…"

"You keep saying that," said Draco, pushing his hips forward against Harry's backside and forcing him up against the wall, "but you don't want me to stop. Not really."

"Please," Harry whimpered. "Don't…"

"Don't tell me not to if you don't mean it, Potter. I know you want it. I can _see_ it." He bit softly at Harry's neck and continued his gentle manipulation of his body. Harry tried not to breathe. "I can tell by the way you're blushing. And the way your breath hisses when I touch you…" A moan tore itself from Harry's throat as Draco's fingers closed suddenly around the length of him. "And when you push back against me like that…I know what you want."

Harry leaned into the wall, saying nothing. He was breathing too heavily for words, and had he been able to speak, what would he have said?

Rather belatedly, he noticed Draco undoing his trousers. His eyes shifted immediately downwards, involuntarily focusing on what he least wanted to focus on. Draco grinned.

"Don't look so worried," he said gently. "I'll be careful, I promise."

He leaned into Harry from behind, the firm pressure of his body against Harry's own intensifying. Harry gasped for breath.

_He's really going to do it_, Harry thought dully. _He's going to put that _thing_ in me and…_

"Please don't," Harry tried again, for all the good it would do him. "Don't…don't touch me like that anymore. Don't do…_that_…to me…_please_…"

"Fine." He'd lost his playful tone; if anything, he looked annoyed. "I won't."

Harry stared at him as the ropes tying him slackened and released, but Draco avoided his eyes. "What? Did you think I was going to _rape_ you, Potter?" he muttered as he sank into a chair.

Harry rubbed at his wrists and said nothing.

"You must really hate me," Draco said bitterly.

Not long ago, he could have agreed without hesitating. Now he was less than sure. He said nothing.

"You must hate me," he repeated, "if you think I'd do something like that. I don't force myself on anyone, Potter. When I take you, you'll ask for it."

That was what stuck with him even as he made his way back to Gryffindor tower. _When I take you, _he'd said_. When._

Again, Ron and Hermione were waiting for him.

"Where've you been all this time?" Hermione asked immediately, looking more worried than anything else.

Harry shrugged. "Out."

"You were supposed meet us at Hagrid's, remember? He's got another mad animal to show us. You—" His crossness evaporated as he got his first good look at Harry since he'd entered the room. "Blimey, where _were_ you? What happened to your wrists? What—"

"I'm tired," Harry said in a vague tone. "Ask me later."

"Since when do you go to bed at seven o' clock?"

Harry was already halfway up the stairs. There was something else that had been bothering him. Something he'd noticed when Draco had started undressing. Something that made no sense to him at all.

_How in Merlin's name did someone like Draco Malfoy end up with so many scars?_

_

* * *

(a further a/n: This is straying further from my original design with every chapter. It just keeps getting darker...like a tunnel...a poorly plotted tunnel...or something. I'm hoping it'll get a tad less angsty when the boys learn to trust each other a bit, but who really knows? I don't. And I probably should...)_


	4. Broken Boy Soldiers

**Disclaimer**: Not J.K. And I'm running out of clever ways to say that.

_(a/n: sorry for the amazingly slow updates, but my dearly devoted Jeff met his untimely demise recently and his shiny new replacement is sadly lacking in internet access. I'm posting both of the chapters I wrote in the meantime today, one with a conspicuous absence of steamy boy love and one comprised of nothing but. Wait, see, and try not to wet yourself.)_

* * *

Chapter 4: Broken Boy Soldiers 

_I'm child then man and child again_

_The toy broken boy soldier_

_I'm child then man and child again_

_The boy never gets older..._

_--The Raconteurs

* * *

_

"_I'm sorry!"_

_Blood. His blood. Aunt Petunia wouldn't like that, the bright red stain spreading steadily over the surgical clean of her kitchen floor when she'd only just scrubbed it down._

_"I'm sor—"_

_The fist that slammed into his jaw was nearly the size of his head. He didn't apologize again._

_"Think it's funny, do you?" _

_The back of his skull hit the floor again, and he choked wordlessly through the blood filling his mouth. _

_"Answer me!"_

_He didn't. He couldn't. And anyway it wouldn't have stopped him._

Crack.

_For a brief, stupid moment, he thought his arm had been lit on fire. He tried to move it and couldn't, stirring up fresh pain in the obviously broken bones but not doing much besides._

"_Clumsy little shit. Look what you've done."_

_He turned his head as a blow connected with his chest, with his good arm, with the broken one, with his face, his neck, his shoulders, with any and every part of him his uncle could get at._

"_I'm sorry!" The words bubbled out in a jumbled flood of blood and tears. "I won't do Bad Things anymore, I'll be good, I promise, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"_

"You're doing it again, Potter," said Draco lightly, though his disinterested tone sounded a little more forced than usual.

"Hmm?" Harry blinked dazedly a few times, then scowled. "Doing what?"

"That glazed-over, depressing, staring-off-into-nothing thing. Have you heard a word of this lesson?"

"Just because Snape is making me sit with you doesn't mean I loathe you any less, Malfoy," Harry growled distractedly as he racked his brain for any recollection of the directions for the potion in front of him. "Mind your own business."

"Fine. But you're doing it wrong, you know."

"How can I be doing it wrong? I know how to dice roots."

"Here." Draco's hands folded over Harry's as he altered their position very slightly. "It works better if you cut them at this angle. See?"

"Er…yeah…" Harry wasn't paying much attention to the root. _His hands are warm_. He didn't know why this surprised him, but it did.

His touch lingered a few seconds longer than necessary before he pulled away, and Harry felt an odd pang in his chest at the look on his face. "Are you all right?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"Are you…are you doing anything later?" Draco asked very quietly.

"What?"

"I want you to meet me there again. I'll keep my hands to myself, I swear. I only want to talk." He paused for a long time, then added, "Please."

Harry suddenly understood what he had meant about that look. Draco often looked that way himself.

OoOoOo

_Why didn't I say no?_ The question ran through his head for the umpteenth time as he stood hesitantly outside the place he guessed Draco must have meant by "there". The Room of Requirement was the only place they had ever really been alone together. He touched the door briefly and pulled his hand back again. He didn't trust Draco in the slightest. But there was something about that look that made him curious. _And all those scars…_

"Just how long are you planning on standing out here?"

Harry looked up with a start. "Malfoy."

"Obviously. What are you doing? Get in here before someone sees you."  
Harry darted into the room without lifting his eyes.

"I thought you weren't coming."

"I don't know why I did."

"So we can make wild, passionate love? Joking, joking," he added immediately as Harry turned for the door. "I…I'm really glad you're here."

"Just tell me what you want so I can get out of here, will you?"

Draco sank into a chair that hadn't been in the room the last time he'd entered it and gestured to Harry to do the same. Harry regarded him with a sort of cold wariness, but eventually sat down opposite him, his green eyes meeting Draco's in an intense glare of deepest hate.

"Let's play a game, Potter."

"This is stupid. I don't want—"

Draco went on as though he hadn't spoken. "I'll tell you something you don't know, you tell me something I don't know, and when you can't think of anything to tell me," he leaned forward and smiled sweetly, "then you have to kiss me."

Harry frowned. "What makes you think I'll lose?"

"I'm a lot more mysterious than you think I am."

That made him hesitate, if only for a moment. But the moment was long enough.

"I was hospitalized four times this summer."

Harry tried to keep his mouth from falling open. "You—what? What for?"

"Your turn," was his only answer.

"I…" He paused. This was the last thing he wanted to be doing. But…there were those scars. For whatever reason, he wanted…no, he _needed_ to know about them. And that meant playing along. "I hate that you've got a family."

"I hate that you've got people who care about you."

Obviously an exaggeration. A haughty, entitled, arrogant little bastard like Draco Malfoy didn't know the first thing about suffering, about the sheer misery of spending so many years knowing there wasn't a soul on earth who gave a damn if you dropped dead the next second. He didn't know what the hell he was talking about.

Now it felt like a challenge. "I was half-starved until I was eleven."

"I was four when my father started hitting me. Broke my arm in three places."

"They'd lock me in a cupboard for weeks at a time."

"He'd used the cruciatus curse on me five times by my tenth birthday."

"My uncle's been beating me senseless for as long as I can remember."

"Mother never stops him."

"I spent half an hour scrubbing my own blood off the kitchen floor before they took me to the hospital."

"I lie about it. I fell down the stairs. I walked into a door. I crashed my broom. I say whatever I need to."

"My skull was cracked. My arm was broken. And he just…laughed. Laughed the whole time."

"For a long time, I didn't even care how much he hurt me. All I wanted was for him to love me. I'd have given anything for that. I still would."

Harry was struck suddenly by a fierce compassion he'd never felt for anyone. He knew. Draco Malfoy, of all people, knew exactly what it was like. And he realized he had only one secret left.

"When you kissed me, I liked it."

The corners of his mouth lifted in a slow, pained smile. "You lose, Potter. I knew that already."

_

* * *

(a further a/n: I know, it's a lame chapter if you're only reading it for the smut, but I like to think my talents extend beyond the realm of porn. Even though they probably don't.)_


	5. As Long As You're Mine

**Disclaimer: **If J.K. wrote like this, I'd be way too busy dying of joy to post this chapter.

_(a/n: Oh yeah. This is the smutty chapter. Prepare your fangirl squeals now.)_

* * *

Chapter 5: As Long As You're Mine

_Every moment as long as you're mine_

_Awaken my body and make up for lost time_

_Say there's no future for us as a pair_

_Although I may know, I don't care_

_--Wicked_

* * *

"Malfoy?"

"Yes?"

"What now?"

"Well," Draco said as he stared determinedly down at the floor as though ashamed of nothing in particular, "now you're going to call me Draco. At least when we're alone. You sound so cold every time you say my name. That's how you talk to people you can't stand. So you're going to call me Draco. Unless you still hate me." He looked up quickly, then down again. "You don't…do you?"

_He looks so sad. More than that. Broken._ He hoped silently that it wasn't his fault.

"I don't. Of course I don't."

"Well…I promised to keep my hands to myself. And I've talked as much as I want to." His eyes flicked to the door, and he smiled a sweet, entirely false smile. "Go on."

Harry stood up. "I could…"

He turned slowly and let his legs give out under him, falling into Draco's chair, practically in his lap.

"But I still owe you that kiss."

Draco looked down at him with a puzzled expression. "What—"

But Harry had sat up, a knee on either side of the other boy's lap, and haltingly, slow and incredibly unsure, pressed his lips to Draco's.

A warm current like an electric shock flowed through him as Draco gripped his waist tightly, driving his hips upward in a slow arch. Harry fell against him, groaning quietly at the pressure, his face glowing red as Draco kissed his neck.

"Wait." Harry was half out of his clothes before he noticed what he was doing, and that Draco was the one telling _him_ to stop. "Is this what you want?"

"What?" His hands stilled at the button of the trousers and he looked at Draco with an expression of utmost confusion. "What are you—of course I—what?"

"I mean, are you sure? Because I won't—" He radiated a stubborn certainty; he looked determined and inarguably assured, much more so than Harry did. "I won't unless you're sure. Because if you regret it, if you thought I'd taken advantage of you, or—" The words died in his throat, and the confident look faded. "I couldn't live with something like that."

Harry kissed him fiercely on the mouth in answer, but Draco pushed him gently away again.

"No. I need to hear you say it."

Harry gave him a foul look and for a moment was tempted to say nothing at all, but as he felt Draco harden underneath him, felt the need aching through his own body, he knew there was no way of resisting.

"Draco Malfoy," he said with a slow, contemptuous glare, "I want you to make the previously mentioned wild, passionate love to me and if you stop now I'm going to kill you."

Draco's eyes lit with a flare almost like hunger as their remaining clothes fell to the floor. He pulled Harry down on top of him again, pushing hard against him without quite entering.

"This is going to hurt a little," he said between breaths that had already become heavy with passion, "but it gets better, I promise."

"O-Okay," Harry said unsteadily. "Just do it alr—" He gasped mid-word at the sudden intrusive pain.

He bit his lip to keep from crying out, nearly drawing blood as he tried to ignore the soreness that had spiked abruptly through every nerve in his body. Draco held him steady, but didn't move in the slightest, looking up with an expression of anguished concern.

"I'm sorry. I'll stop."

"No," Harry said defiantly, his voice strained and tense with the pain reverberating through his body. "Don't. Please."

"But I'm hurting you."

Harry ground himself forcefully against the hardness of Draco's body, wincing once more at the pain but rising and repeating the motion until Draco was breathing as heavily as he was.

"Stop, Harry…you're going to hurt yourself…don't…" He lost track of the words halfway through as they became a groan of desperate pleasure.

"Then help me," Harry said breathlessly, supporting himself with one arm braced against the back of the chair and the other entwined at the fingers with Draco's. "I don't…I don't know what I'm doing…"

"Like this." Harry moaned outright, unable to stop it as Draco grabbed his hips and pulled him down again, ignoring the slight resistance as forced himself back inside. All the air seemed to go out of Harry's lungs and his fingers dug hard into Draco's shoulder, but if it pained him he didn't say so.

He withdrew slowly only to push gently back again, setting a steady, measured pace as Harry's arms folded around his shoulders, his drawn-out, panting breaths hot and loud in Draco's ear.

"Does that hurt?"

"No," he said, his voice almost a whine as he realized this was entirely true. The pain had turned to a bright spark of fervent desire bursting hotly inside him in a way he didn't quite understand. "It's…" He couldn't think of the words, knowing only that he wanted as much of that feeling as he could get. "Can…can you go any faster?"

He'd hardly finished the sentence before Draco thrust his hips up in a quick aggressive movement, driving against him in harsh, rapid strokes that knocked the breath from him instantly. He shuddered enormously and cried out as a fiery tightness spread exquisitely through him. Draco lifted one arm to the back of Harry's neck, meeting his mouth with the sweet warmth of his own as the euphoric pressure became entirely too much to bear.

Draco's grip tightened with a pain Harry didn't even notice, his head falling forward, his face flushed and glistening with a slight sheen of perspiration. "Harry…I'm going to…what should I…" His voice was tight and strained with concentration, but the hurried, draining intensity of his lust wouldn't allow him to finish the thought.

But Harry got the idea, and smiled as best he could in muddled storm of their bodies to grant him permission. "It's all right. You can—"

Draco was already curling against him, the hot throb of his climax setting off Harry's own: a burning, explosive rush of blood and feverish release that ripped through him until he fell weak and shaking against Draco's chest in a kind of satisfied fatigue.

He smiled contentedly as Draco gently stroked the jet-black hair that was still slightly damp with sweat, never wanting to leave his arms. He wanted nothing to end this moment, wanted nothing to do with the world outside this room. Outside was where they'd become the Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy who loathed each other, where it wasn't safe for one to have anything to do with the other. And they both knew it.

"What should we do?" Harry asked finally, his voice a hoarse, reluctant whisper. Draco's fingers slid delicately across Harry's face, brushing with utmost care at the tears gradually forming in his eyes.

"Nothing, for now. For as long as we can." Somehow he looked sadder than Harry had ever seen him. "I don't know what'll happen after. Maybe, if we can keep it secret…" He trailed off with a vague sort of hopelessness. "It doesn't matter right now. Right now, all that's going to happen is that I'll stay with you for as long as you'll let me, Harry. Even if it's only tonight."

"Even if it's forever?"he asked quietly, already half-asleep as his exhaustion coupled with the comforting warmth of Draco's body wrapped reassuringly around his own.

"Of course," Draco answered, knowing it was a promise he had no sure way of keeping, but saying it because he wanted it to be true. "Of course I will."

* * *

_(a/n: I like this chapter because it's the one most closely related to the song it's named after. And also because it's filled with unnesscessarily verbose man sex. For some reason I always write sex scenes without using any dirty words (sorry, but I still can't bring myself to use the word "penis" and not laugh. It's so grossly anatomical) and sometimes it just sounds like a pornographic thesaurus. _

_On another note, I was worried that it might have been too soon for them to be going at it, but I was trying for a sort of spur-of-the-moment type thing. Sometimes that's just how sex happens. Well, I don't know_ exactly_ how it happens, but I watch a lot of hentai so I've got a pretty good idea.)_


	6. Nightswimming

**Disclaimer**: Okay, you caught me. I _am_ J.K. Don't tell anyone.

_(a/n: I made a few minor changes to the format of the chapters (namely adding the lyrics from the title songs, but I also switched the names of chapters two and three after reviewing the lyrics), mostly because I was bored at the time__. You'll also find a random cameo (the "stupid friend" she mentions would be me, by the way) and some J.K.-style (i.e., totally unsubtle) foreshadowing lying around in this chapter. _

_On a side note, now that my damn e-mail is working again and I am actually notified when I get them, I can actually send responses to your reviews. Hurrah._

_P.S. _

_Ron and Hermione are going out for no particular reason. If you don't like this...shut up. It's my damn fanfic and I will do what I wish.)_

* * *

Chapter 6: Nightswimming 

_I'm not sure all these people understand_

_It's not like years ago_

_The fear of getting caught_

_Of recklessness in water…_

—_R.E.M

* * *

_

"And just where the _hell_ have you been?" This was probably about the second or third angriest he'd ever seen his best friend, and Harry couldn't stop smiling. No good could possibly come of this conversation. "Do you have any idea what time it is? Hermione's been worried sick—literally, she's been in the bathroom for about twenty minutes, I think she's throwing up—we were about to get Dumbledore—_will you stop grinning like that?"_

He tried without much success to wipe the satisfied smirk off his face and be serious. "Oh, shut up, Ron. You sound like your mum."

Ron's ears turned bright pink, but before he could start yelling or hit Harry in the face or whatever it was he was planning on doing next, a red-eyed, bushy-haired girl was standing between them, hugging Harry hard enough to crush his internal organs.

"Ow! Hermione, get off, I can't breathe!"

"Harry! We were so _worried_! We thought you'd been—oh, it was _awful_, Ron was throwing up and everything—" Now his friend's ears were pink with embarrassment as well as rage, but Hermione took no notice and plowed on, "—but where _were_ you? It's only half an hour till breakfast, you've been out all night!"

"I was—er—out…with someone." He tried desperately to keep his face from flushing as he said this. It did not work.

"Out with—oh. _Oh_." Hermione still looked blank and confused, but the angry flush had gone from Ron's face, replaced with a curious and disconcerting slyness. "Right. _Right_."

"What—?" Hermione began only to be instantly interrupted.

"We're going to get dressed, Hermione. We'll see you at breakfast," Ron said quickly.

"But—"

"C'mon, Harry."

"Bye, Hermione," Harry said dejectedly, wishing very much for a way out of this conversation. But he found none.

"You lucky _bastard_!" Ron exclaimed they climbed the stairs. "You didn't tell me you were—what was it like? Hermione won't let me—"

"_Ronald!_"

Hermione had unnaturally good hearing whenever it was least convenient, and Ron shuffled quickly into the boys' dormitory looking slightly sick.

"She's going to kill you."

"I know, I know. But anyway, it was with Cho, right? You didn't say you were going out with her again."

"Because I haven't been," he sighed, and immediately regretted it. There was no easy way to explain.

So he lied.

"I mean, you don't need to be going out with someone to shag them, right?"

Ron blinked at him. "Er…well…I suppose not."

"Well, it was like this…"

And thus spewed forth a long mixture of things entirely invented and things altered gratuitously to fit the imaginary situation.

"Wow," Ron said after about twenty minutes, and because he couldn't think of anything else, he said it again. "_Wow_. She really did all that?"

"Yeah," Harry said without hesitation. "But don't tell anyone, all right? She'd kill me if it got out that we…you know."

"Obviously. Won't say a word, mate." He grinned disturbingly. "Absolutely bloody amazing, though. If Hermione ever—"

"_Ronald!_"

Ron paled significantly. "How the _hell_ did she hear that?"

Harry laughed in a false, distracted way as he and Ron dressed, finally accomplishing the activity they'd supposedly left to do. But he was still deep in tense, uncomfortable thought.

_What did I just do?_

OoOoOo

"It's only stating the obvious," Ron said sullenly while Hermione pointedly ignored him. "I don't see what's wrong with telling Harry we _haven't_ had—"

"You are one word away from the most violent hexing you've ever had in your life, Ronald Weasley," Hermione interrupted in a flat, annoyed tone.

Ron was saved from further comment by the appearance of the barn owl that fluttered down beside Harry's breakfast plate to stare menacingly at him until he had relived it of the small note tied to its leg.

It said only one word, in small precise handwriting he didn't recognize:

_Tonight?_

His heart twisted uncomfortably and raced to the vicinity of his throat as his gaze darted over to the Slytherin table while he tried very hard not to be seen doing so. He caught sight of Draco, who smiled quickly before returning to his usual expression of vague, snobbish annoyance.

Ron was staring unsubtly over his shoulder; Harry crumpled the note hurriedly before he could read it.

"Was that from—?"

"Yeah," he answered before Ron could finish the undoubtedly embarrassing sentence. "Er…she wants to meet me again."

"Good," Ron said in a low, irritated voice. "Someone around here should be getting—_ow_!"

Hermione had smacked him hard on the back of his head. "Keep talking like that and I am _never_ going to sleep with you. Not even when we're married. I'll chuck you and go out with Cormac McLaggen."

"Oh come on, Hermione." He was rubbing the spot where she'd hit him, wearing an apprehensive look lined with poorly concealed worry. "That's not funny."

"Neither are you."

While the two of them were thoroughly distracted with one of their frequent arguments, Harry stared unobtrusively at Draco until he looked up, then nodded minutely and lowered his eyes back to his plate before anyone noticed the hasty, shifting glance.

"She's mental," Ron muttered irritably. Hermione had apparently stormed off while Harry was staring at his breakfast, and Ron had his arms crossed with his face set in an expression of stubborn annoyance. He proceeded to embark on a lengthy tangent about the lack of sanity common to every woman on the planet, which Harry did not hear a single word of. His stomach was rolling uncomfortably, his thoughts racing faster than could possibly be healthy.

Tonight could not come soon enough.

OoOoOo

"You're late," Draco said entirely too many hours later.

"You didn't say what time," Harry answered indignantly. "I was guessing. Did you wait long?"

"Not really."

"Oh. Er. Good."

There was a long, uncomfortable silence that ended abruptly when Draco caught Harry in his arms and kissed him in a way that suggested many things which are not commonly done in hallways.

"You could at least wait until we get inside," Harry said through a mouthful of Draco's tongue. "Someone might see…"

And unfortunately someone did.

"_Oh_."

The "oh" belonged to a small girl with mouse brown hair he vaguely recognized as a being a fifth-year member of his own house, though if he'd been paying better attention she'd have easily stood out as the only person in the entire school with an American accent. Harry flushed five different shades of scarlet and fumbled desperately for an explanation that was obviously not coming. "I…er…we...er…" He said "er" about six more times but didn't get much further than that.

Draco was anything but nervous. "Hello," he said with a broad, sweet smile that, had Harry not known him better, might have seemed friendly. "What's your name?"

"Um…it's Bonnie." Her eyes were wide and suspicious behind the oval frames of her glasses, the torchlight glinting off them in a particularly disturbing way. "Aren't you Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes. And I expect you're wondering what I'm doing snogging Harry Potter in this hallway, aren't you?"

"Uh…kinda…"

"Well, come over here and I'll explain it to you, all right?"

Harry stared very hard down at his trainers during the ear-piercing squeal that came a few seconds later.

"I _knew_ it! Oh man, just wait till I tell Kayleigh she lost another bet, she owes me so much money now—"

He tried desperately not to listen to any of this until he heard Draco say, quite clearly:

"_Obliviate!_"

Harry looked up with a horrified start. "Draco!"

"What?"

"Did you—_please_ tell me you didn't just erase that girl's memory."

"All right. I didn't just erase her memory."

"_Draco_!"

"Look, do you want her going around telling her stupid friend and Merlin knows who else what she just saw?"

"No," Harry said slowly, "but I don't want you messing about with people's brains either. You could've really—"

"Ugh."

Harry and Draco stepped apart and glared at each other, trying to look as much like their usual selves as possible.

"Uh…what's going on? What are you…was I just…ow…" The girl trailed off and put a hand to her head.

"_I_ am escorting Potter to the detention I've just given him," Draco said stiffly, "and _you_ are getting out of my sight before you get one as well. _Now_," he added in a shout when she hesitated.

They were both quiet for a very long time.

"D'you think she's gone? It's been ten minutes."

"Er…yeah. Probably." He paused. "I'll get the door."

Draco was behind him before he'd even reached the wall, exerting a very light pressure against him and nipping playfully at his neck. "Hurry up. It's been a whole twenty-three hours since I last ravished you. I feel deprived."

Harry laughed quietly and pushed Draco away, though not very hard. "Has anyone ever told you what an astonishingly slow learner you are?"

His hands were already under Harry's robes, making it much more difficult for him to find the door. "Will you hold on…for five bloody…seconds…"

"Well, I really can't stop now—what?"

Harry had frozen completely, staring with annoyed disbelief at the wall he was presently being pushed against.

"You'll have to. The bloody door's gone."

OoOoOo

"This is a bad idea, Draco."

"No one's going to be there. It's only for prefects."

"And you're the only one of those, are you?"

"I'm the only one who'd take a bath at half past ten."

"What if someone—?"

Draco set his hands firmly on Harry's shoulders and looked him in the eyes as best he could in the dim light of the empty corridor. "They won't. I won't let them. I won't ever let anyone take you away from me." He paused, the severe look on his face softening. "Don't you trust me?"

Harry realized with a combination of surprise and unexplained alarm that he did. "Yes," he agreed slowly, "More than anyone." _Well, almost anyone_, he amended mentally. It wasn't until much later that he understood the full impact of that thought. The happy exhilaration tinged with faint apprehension filling him when Draco's hand closed over his to lead him down the hallway…the by now familiar feel of the other boy's tongue meeting passionately with his own…the warmth of that lean, surprisingly muscular body resting against him as they stumbled into the prefect's bathroom, laughing and kissing and stuck halfway between arousal and amusement…it was all very distracting.

"Hang on," Draco said during the brief moment when they'd pulled away to catch their breath.

"What for?" He was already flushed with anticipation and annoyed at Draco for putting it off. "Do it now. Do it on the floor. I don't care…"

"Well, I _do_ care," Draco said, giving Harry a gentle push to separate himself from the tangle of their limbs. "If we do it like that you won't be able to sit properly for a month."

At the moment he didn't very much care about that, but Draco had already crossed the room and begun fiddling about with the mind-bogglingly numerous taps and pumps in the surrounding area.

"What are you _doing_?"

"I find that baths tend to be a bit easier when you've actually got water in them, Harry."

Harry glowered at him. "Didn't you bring me here to do something other than give me a bath?"

"Mm," said Draco mumbled distractedly, still watching the bathtub intently as it filled, (which, due to it being larger than a bathtub had any right to be, was taking rather longer than one might expect).

It is very difficult look adequately disgruntled while mostly naked in an enormous bathroom with your former arch-enemy coldly denying you the sex you expected, but Harry was having a good go at it.

"Draco," he said in a loud and terribly cross voice as he stalked across the room until he was directly behind him, "will you _stop_ staring at that sodding bath and _look_ at m—"

Draco placed one hand flat in the small of Harry's back and shoved him into the water with a monumental splash.

"I hate you, Malfoy," Harry spat through a mouthful of lavender bubbles. "I hate you so very much."

"Lies," said Draco, smirking as he sank with far more dignity into the water beside him. "Now, about that 'something' I brought you here for…"

Harry sent a wave of steaming liquid and bubbles flying wetly into Draco's face and swam very quickly in the opposite direction. "No. There will be no shagging for you. I think I've concussed myself from falling."

"You have _not_," Draco said as Harry darted away from him again. "You could do widths and lengths in this thing and I bloody well _have_ done!"

"I've been injured. I think I need the hospital wing."

"Get _back_ here, you horrid little minx—"

"Maybe I'll just go to bed."

"I'm going to do something wickedly inappropriate when I get hold of you, Potter."

"Oh really?"

"Oh yes. Unbelievably, shockingly, deliciously inappropri—"

"WHAT THE _HELL_ ARE YOU DOING?!"

_Oh no. Oh sweet merciful mother of all that is magical no._

There was a full minute and a half of unutterably deafening silence. Silence from Harry, silence from Draco, not so much as an "um" or "er" or "we can explain".

"I think I'm going to be ill," Ron said from the doorway.

* * *

_(a further a/n: After I apparently reduced someone to tears with the last chapter, I wanted to do one that was a little more...fun. I ended up with this. Oh well. If you need me, I'll be off lamenting the fact that my porn makes people cry.) _


	7. I Love You Honey but I Hate Your Friends

**Disclaimer**: I'm sorry, I'm too busy not being J.K. Rowling to write a clever disclaimer.

_(a/n: I hate this chapter. Seriously. I am profoundly ashamed of the fact that I wasted an entire week of my time and yours on writing it. I couldn't get the damn emotional transitions right and then nothing very interesting happens for the entire rest of the chapter and something inside of me dies every time I have to look at it. But in all fairness, I left my will to live cowering and weeping under a tenth row seat in theater eleven of the Randolph multiplex after watching Hollywood massacre The Golden Compass for two hours, so it's only to be expected that my writing should be unthinkably awful after undergoing such trauma._

_Yeah. Let's go with that. _

_Anyway, please don't kill yourself due to the massive suck of this chapter or there won't be anybody to tell me if the next one blows any less.)_

* * *

Chapter 7: I Love You Honey, but I Hate Your Friends 

_I love you honey, but I hate your friends_

_I love you honey, but they'll be the end of me_

_I love you honey, but I hate those friends…_

—_Cheap Trick_

* * *

"Look, Ron—" 

"Are you completely mental? Don't you even know who you're messing about with in there?"

"Considering what we were about to do before you so rudely poked that unfortunate nose of yours into our business, I expect he does, Weasley," Draco said impatiently.

"Don't start, Draco," Harry said before turning back to Ron. "Just let me explain—"

"You—you've been lying about everything, haven't you? It wasn't Cho. It wasn't a girl at all. You've been—with another bloke—and it's—it's _Draco sodding Malfoy_…" Beyond that, he seemed to be at loss for words.

"Oh, well done. Worked that out all on your own, did you?"

"Shut. Up. Draco," Harry said in a slow, annoyed way. "Ron—"

"I don't want to hear this, or see it, or…or whatever. I don't want anything to do with it."

"Suits me fine," said Draco. Harry kicked him viciously in the shin, but Draco did not react in any noticeable way. "Why don't you be a good little boy and bugger off now, Weasley."

"I'm taking Harry with me, you perverted git. Whatever you've done to him, you're not doing it again."

"He seemed to like what I did to him."

"Shut up, both of you," said Harry tersely. "Just _shut up_."

This was exactly the sort of situation he'd meant to avoid; siding with one meant betraying the other and he had absolutely no idea which one was more worth keeping.

"We're leaving—"

"He's staying—"

"Get your clothes on—"

"Don't move—"

"I've got my wand, Malfoy…"

"…We're awfully naked under these bubbles, Weasley."

Ron paled visibly.

"You wouldn't."

As if in answer, Draco pulled Harry forcibly against his own body, his tongue thrusting with uncomfortable aggression into his mouth and grabbing him in an unspeakably embarrassing way.

Harry punched him in the stomach.

"What the _hell_ was that for?" Draco sputtered melodramatically. It hadn't hurt all that much, but the look Harry gave him did.

"Don't you _ever_ do that again!"

"Since when am I not allowed to snog you?"

"Not like that," Harry said, so angry he wasn't even yelling. "Never like that. Not when you're only doing it to get back at someone else."

"I wasn't—well…all right, I was, but I was only—"

Harry was already halfway out of the water by then.

"Harry—"

"Not now, Draco."

The kiss that followed was in every way different from the previous one. The feeling had no words and didn't need them. "That one wasn't for Weasley," Draco said very quietly.

It was a long time before Harry could bring himself to push him away. "I'm not mad," Harry said into his ear as they separated. "I just need some time explain things. He'll understand. I'll make him understand."

"I'll believe that when I see it," said Draco, and sank moodily back under the bubbles as he watched them go.

OoOoOo

"You could've said, you know."

"Said what, exactly? 'By the way, Ron, you know that Malfoy bloke whose maniac father keeps trying to kill me? You know, the one who calls your girlfriend a mudblood every other day? The one who's been mocking us ceaselessly for the last five or six years? Oh good, because it just so happens I'm shagging him now, thought you should know. Oh dear, did I neglect to mention I've become a homosexual while you weren't paying attention?' Doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, does it?"

"You could've at least said the last bit, I wouldn't have minded that," Ron said, not looking the least bit pacified.

"I couldn't have told you that before because I didn't _know_ before. I'd never even thought of it before Draco and I..." He shrugged. "Well, you saw us."

"Don't remind me. I'll never get that image out of my head, thanks."

"You could have walked in on worse."

The shared a brief, insincere laugh before the inevitable awkward silence crept up on them again.

"Go on," Harry said after he'd had as much quiet as he could take. "Ask me. I know you're thinking it, you might as well say so."

Ron let out a long, nervous breath. "Why has it got to be him? There must be other—", he paused tactfully, "—other people like you about. Why him?"

"Dunno. Has it _got_ to be Hermione? She's not the only girl about. Why've you picked her?"

"That's different—"

"Why's it different? Because Draco isn't a girl?"

"Because Hermione isn't Draco Malfoy, all right? It's different because Hermione's one of us and Malfoy's…well…"

He didn't finish. He didn't need to.

"He's not the sort of person you think he is," Harry answered simply. "Nothing like."

"How do you know? What's changed in the last two weeks that's made him any different? How do you know he's not just doing it to—"

"Don't." Harry found himself alarmingly ready to hit his best friend and shoved his hands into his pockets to stop himself from doing just that. "Don't even _think_ about saying what I think you're going to. Draco is _not_ going to do anything like that. Ever. He cares about me and I care about him and that means a hell of a lot more than you seem to think it does, Ron."

"But—"

"Would you just hand Hermione over to Voldemort, Ron? Would you let a load of Death Eaters kill _her_?"

"That's different, Harry," said Ron, still seeming to think himself capable of talking Harry over to his side of the argument. "I…you know…I love Hermione…so it's not really…you know…"

"Then it's not different at all," Harry said sternly. "I'm going to bed, Ron. Let me know if you plan on being less of an arse by morning."

OoOoOo

There was, as it happened, a great deal of difference between going to bed and actually sleeping.

He turned on his side and sighed enormously. It was three in the morning.

_I shouldn't have said that. Any of it._

He rolled to his left, finding it no more favorable than the right.

_It was only to annoy him, anyway. I didn't mean it._

He threw the blankets off only to pull them back again seconds later.

_It's stupid. We're not even going out. If we can't even tell people, how can I…how can he…_

He put his head under the pillow as if hiding from something. There was one very simple and very obvious conclusion he was avoiding like the bubonic plague.

Sex itself was one thing. He could handle that. But it was not at all acceptable for him to be in love with Draco Malfoy.

OoOoOo

"Are you trying to eat your breakfast or just beat it senseless?" Hermione asked from behind a book of unthinkable length.

Harry gave his eggs one last vicious poke with the end of his fork before looking up. "Sorry. Just…a lot on my mind, I guess."

"I know. Ron shouldn't have told me, but he did." Ron's cheeks flashed red for no more than a moment, but Harry saw it and tried not to laugh.

"That's all right. I was going to tell you anyway. I just…it's not exactly easy to explain…"

"Yes it is. Well, not to Ron, but then what _can_ you explain to him that he gets the first time round?"

"Hermione—"

"Will you _shut up_ while I am talking, Ron?"

"I was only going to say that Harry should do what he likes—"

"Ron—"

"—even if it _is_ with a bloke—"

"_Ron_—"

"—and…and even if the bloke _is_ Mal—"

"Keep your bloody voice down, Ron," Harry hissed. "Just because I told _you_ doesn't mean—" he dropped his voice even lower, "Look, you can't tell _anyone_, all right? The worse that'll happen to me is getting told off by your mum, but Draco…" He trailed off, not even wanting to consider the subject. "Just shut up about it."

"Right. Sorry."

_This is going to be trouble._

OoOoOo

"You're mad at me, aren't you?"

"No." Close as they were, Draco seemed horribly distant. Harry slid his arms around his neck, burying his face in his chest and sighing deeply.

"You are. I can tell."

"I said I'm not, didn't I? Look at me." Their eyes met briefly, but Harry couldn't force himself to hold the gaze and let it fall downwards again. Draco smiled and kissed him for a very, very long time. "I'm not, okay?"

"Not mad, then. But it's something. You're not supposed to be this quiet."

Now Draco was the one who looked away. "Is this what it's always going to be like, Harry?"

"What?"

"You choosing Weasley over me. Are you going to take his side in everything?"

"I wasn't taking anyone's side."

"Of course you were. You had to. I'm just sorry it wasn't mine."

His face was entirely expressionless, which Harry knew meant he was feeling utterly miserable. And that annoyed him immensely.

"Shut up, Draco. So I left with Ron. Why does that matter? I came back to _you_. I always do."

Draco gave him a small smile with absolutely no feeling behind it. "I know."

"I've had just about enough of you," Harry said exasperatedly, throwing himself against Draco and managing (with some effort, considering how much smaller than him he actually was) to drag him down to the floor.

"What are you doing?"

Harry rested all his weight on top of Draco, making it difficult, though not impossible, for him to stand. "I don't know how long we can keep this up. I don't know what'll happen when we can't anymore. But I _do_ know that I'm not going to waste whatever time we have together talking about Ron." He was having some trouble saying all this while simultaneously kissing Draco and trying to get his own shirt off as well as Draco's pants and keep him from protesting either activity. "And I would therefore like you to shut up about him and focus on something else."

Draco couldn't help laughing. "And I expect you've got something awfully carnal for me to focus on, haven't you?"

"What gave it away?"

"That bed wasn't there ten minutes ago."

Harry laughed.

And kissed him.

And did all manner of things which don't need mentioning.

They'd have time enough to worry later, after all.

_

* * *

(a further a/n: Ah, seeds of doubt. They are so easily gardened into trees of skepticism…in forests of suspicious disbelief…in robust evergreen regions of…well, you get the idea. But I still frigging hate this chapter.)_


	8. Letters

**Disclaimer**: If I were J.K., I'd have better things to do with my…wait, no I wouldn't.

_(a/n: Hello again…and I say that assuming any of you still want to read this after that last chapter…anyway, this one got finished a day or two earlier than I'd planned on account of Boston being covered in approximately 853,478 feet of snow. Which wouldn't be a problem except that that is where I live. But I digress. Since you're probably here for the yaoi, I'll leave you to it while I go down to the basement and poke the furnace with a stick. It has no noticeable effect on the abysmal heating in my 250-year-old house, but it's a fun way to spend an afternoon.)_

* * *

Chapter 8: Letters

_You're leaving me here, dear, alone with all your letters_

_Don't let go of your innocence and feathers_

_And now I find that every sound reminds me of our song_

_Since you left me here, dear, alone with my wrongs…_

—_Stroke 9_

* * *

It was very loud in the room of requirement that day.

"Mm…Draco, be careful…it still hurts from last time."

"That wasn't from me. You fell off the bed, you git. And squirming around like that is only going to make it hurt more."

"How am I supposed…to hold still…when you're—I said _be careful_!"

"I _am_ being careful. I'm always careful with you."

"Git."

"Do you want me to stop, then?"

"…No…"

"I thought not. Now hold still…"

OoOoOo

"You realize I'm never going to be able to move again."

"Good. Then you'll never be able to leave me."

Harry might have laughed if he hadn't caught Draco's eye at exactly the right moment, just in time to see the brief flicker of uncertain sadness crossing through him.

"Er…are you all right? You're very…quiet."

"I think we've made enough noise for the whole day. Well, _you_ have, anyway."

"And whose fault is that?"

Draco's face was still set in expression of indecisive discomfort.

"Harry…let me ask you something…"

Harry's face lit with a small smile and he snuggled closer against Draco's chest, his fingers tracing down arms made as much of scar tissue as normal flesh until their hands found one another. "Sure."

"What…what do you think would happen if everyone knew? About us, I mean."

"Dunno. Probably something to do with torches and pitchforks. Why do you ask?"

"I'm being serious. I'm sick of having to resort to minor-grade espionage every time I want to see you. I'm sick of having to act like I hate the only person who really means anything to me. I don't know if I can do this anymore, Harry."

Harry tensed visibly and pulled his hand away. "That sounds a lot like an ultimatum, Draco."

Draco's expression softened instantly, becoming almost apologetic. "No, that's not what I meant. I'll go on seeing you whatever way I can, I already promised you that much. I just wanted—nevermind. Forget it. Forget I said anything."

"No," said Harry thoughtfully, making a valiant effort to conceal his annoyance. "I know what you mean, but…then everything would be different. Everyone would—"

"What does it matter what anyone else has to say about it?"

"It _doesn't_ matter."

"You're ashamed of me, is that it?"

"I never said that!"

"That doesn't mean it's not true!"

Several long, silent seconds passed between them.

"I didn't mean that like it sounded," Harry said finally. "It's not because I'm embarrassed. It's because I'm scared. I'm scared you'll get hurt because of me."

"Harry, nothing's going to happen to me."

"That's what my parents thought," Harry answered bitterly. "That's what Sirius thought. Didn't quite go like they'd planned, did it?"

"Don't be stupid. Haven't you ever met my father? The Dark Lord wouldn't kill me."

"Of course he would, you prat. He's Voldemort. It's what he does. And seeing as I've got a—" he scowled briefly "—a 'saving people thing'…well, you don't need to be half as clever as he is to know I'd easily let myself get killed for the person I—"

He stopped. And blushed. And looked away.

"What? The person you what? Look at me, Harry. What were you going to say?"

"Nothing. Forget it. Forget I said anything."

OoOoOo

"What in Merlin's name did that pudding ever do to you?"

Harry momentarily stilled the assault on his dessert to favor Ron with a monumentally evil glare before resuming the intense beating being administered to his food.

"Are you and Malfoy—?"

"Shut up, Ron."

"No," said Hermione thoughtfully, "I don't think they're fighting. I think they're—"

"Shut up, Hermione."

"Don't tell her to shut up."

"If she'd stop talking, I wouldn't have to."

"If that's the sort of mood you're in, go have it out with Malfoy, not us."

"It's got nothing to do with him." This sounded false even to his own ears. "I mean it does, but we're not fighting, exactly…" He lowered his voice a further decibel and added, "…but he's been acting sort of weird lately."

"What d'you mean, weird?" said Ron with a little more interest. Being suspicious of Draco meant being on familiar ground for the first time in weeks.

"He hardly ever talks anymore. He doesn't look at me. Sometimes I feel like he doesn't even want…I dunno. It's just not like him." He paused, knowing what Ron was thinking without even looking up. "And don't you dare start up with that 'Malfoy's trying to get you killed' crap or so help me—"

"I wasn't going to say that. I was going to say you should do something to cheer him up." He blinked for a few seconds, and proceeded as though against his better judgment. "D'you ever think that maybe _I'm_ not the one who thinks that?"

"What the hell are you on about?"

"Well, if that's not what you wanted to hear, then why did you ask someone you knew would say it?"

Harry was silent for about a minute and a half.

"Shut up, Ron."

OoOoOo

"Draco, what's _wrong_?"

"How many times have I got to tell you it's nothing?"

"It's not nothing. I know it's not. Why can't you just—"

"Why can't _you_ just stop worrying about me all the time?"

"Because I—" It was no good trying to get out words that plainly did not want to be said. "I just do, all right?"

"Well stop it. It's a waste of our time and Merlin knows we don't have enough of it. Now are you going to keep shouting at me or are you coming to bed?"

On weekends they could spend the night together without too many questions being asked. Harry slept better lying next to Draco for even a few hours than he did the rest of the week combined.

"Fine," he sighed irritably. "But just so you know I'm not done—"

After that he didn't say anything very much, because Draco had certain ways of being very persuasive.

Hours later, he woke up alone, but the dim spot of light, the faint scratching of a quill against parchment, and the sporadic breathing of the decidedly awake emanating from the person who ought to have been lying next to him were all that registered with Harry before he fell asleep again.

OoOoOo

"Why would he be writing a letter in the middle of the night?"

"If I knew, would I be talking to you about it?"

Ron shrugged. "Just ask him what he was doing, then."

"I can't just _ask_ him."

"Why?"

"Because then he'll think I don't trust him."

"If you _do_ trust him, then why exactly are we creeping through the Room of Requirement at one in the morning looking for a letter you're not the least bit suspicious of?"

"Just shut up and concentrate—wait, nevermind, I found—"

For a moment it seemed the room itself had gone, that there was nothing in the whole of existence but that letter and the person holding it.

"Draco." Harry said. He couldn't think of anything to add.

"I've been stupid," said Draco, his voice colder than Harry had ever heard it. "All this time I thought there was something between us."

"Draco, no—"

"Shut up. You're here because you saw me writing this. You still think I'd let the Dark Lord have you. You don't trust me and you don't care about me."

"No—"

"I said _shut up_. This letter—" For a moment he seemed too angry to speak, then threw the letter at Harry and began again. "This letter was for my parents. To tell them I wouldn't be home at Christmas. Or for the summer holidays. To tell them I was never coming home again and they'd better disown me before the Dark Lord finds out their son is in love with Harry Potter. But I guess I've just been the world's biggest idiot in thinking Harry Potter loved me back."

"Draco, it's not like that—"

"Then what _is_ it like? Nevermind, I don't care. I don't care what you have to say about it. This says enough."

"Draco—"

He stopped at the door, but didn't turn around.

"Don't call me that anymore."

_

* * *

(a further a/n: Apparently my writing now operates on two settings: shitty and horribly depressing. Well, it's supposed to be depressing, though considering my grasp of human emotion it may not be any such thing. If it helps, try to imagine the chapter as if written by someone who isn't a sociopath. Actually, I wasn't so much worried about Harry and Draco as I was preoccupied with the thought, "Man, Ron must be really uncomfortable right now". Standing around watching people break up is definitely not my idea of a good time._

_I'm really annoyed at how my irritatingly expansive vocabulary makes itself known in this chapter; it's making the dialogue all OOC (somehow I just can't see Harry and Draco throwing words like 'ultimatum' and 'espionage' into casual conversation) and it's just pissing me the hell off. _

_Oh, and if you're wondering why exactly Draco showed up in the Room of Requirement at precisely the wrong moment, the answer is very simple._

_Because I said so._

_Seriously. Come up with your own reason, because I won't be writing one. That's what your imagination is for, kids.) _


	9. Green Christmas

**Disclaimer**: Unfortunately, Santa busted me for tax evasion and I will now be receiving coal instead of the rights to Harry Potter this year.

_(a/n: I am so creeped out by the timing of this chapter. I always knew I was going to it set at Christmas, but how it ended up being posted like three days before the holiday IRL is a terrifying mystery for the ages and involved absolutely no planning on my part. If you doubt this, consider the planning skills I have demonstrated thus far and consider your doubts silenced._

_Interestingly (though not very), this is the only chapter I wrote without listening to the title song for longer than it took to get lyrics down. It kept fucking up my ambience…thing…I mean, the song is waaaaay too upbeat and funny for such a revoltingly emo chapter (I know, I'm trying to cut back on the compliment fishing trips, but I just can't stand the way I write angst…) even though the basic idea fits very well and is all appropriately seasonal and so forth._

_Okay, so I just wanted an excuse to finally use some BNL lyrics. They're my favorite band. Sue me.) _

* * *

Chapter 9: Green Christmas 

_Green 'cause of everything I missed_

_All this mistletoe, no kiss_

_And with every Christmas wish_

_There could be no greater gift_

_Than to have this envy lift…_

—_The Barenaked Ladies_

* * *

Harry would never in a million years have imagined that a Christmas spent at the Burrow could be more depressing than ten at the Dursleys' put together.

"Look everyone, it's the Spirit of Christmas."

"Shut up, Fred."

"Oh, Harry, dear, you look—"

"I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley."

"Wotcher, Harry! Er…everything all right?"

"I'm okay, Tonks, really. I'm fine."

_Fine_. He'd said it no less than twenty times since he'd walked through the door five minutes previously, and the word alone felt more like a lie every time it left his mouth. _I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine…_There was nothing else to say, no way of telling the closest thing he had to a family anything bearing the slightest resemblance to the truth.

_I'm trying to smile._

"I'm fine."

_I wish I could._

"I'm fine."

_I can't._

"I'm fine."

_Because Draco Malfoy broke my heart last week._

"I'm fine."

_And now the rest of me is broken too._

"Harry—"

"I'm fine."

"No you aren't. And anyway I didn't ask."

Harry blinked. "Ginny. What are you in doing here?"

"Well," she paused as if to consider the question, "I do live here…"

"Not in Ron's room you don't."

"Nobody's seen you in three hours. Mum sent me to find you."

"Well, you found me."

Ginny's face remained entirely blank. "I found _someone_. But as far as I know, Harry Potter doesn't sit on my brother's bed for hours a day staring at the ceiling in a tragically heroic fest of sulking, so you might well be someone else."

Harry leaned over to sulk on the other side of the bed, but did not dignify her with an answer.

"I'll go and tell Mum you're dead, then. I just hope your boyfriend hasn't chucked you the next time the wizarding world needs saving or we're all in for it."

It took Harry far too long to realize what she'd just said. "Did Ron tell—?"

Ginny stifled a laugh. "You don't think I notice anything, do you? You were out past midnight every other evening for a month. Wasn't exactly hard to imagine what you were up to."

"But how—you knew it was a bloke—"

"I didn't _know_ until you said it just now, really. I only thought it must be something worth covering up. I thought it was Ron for a while…"

_"What?"_

"…but then it couldn't be a Gryffindor or I'd have seen them leaving at least once…"

"Ginny?"

"Yeah?"

"Shouldn't you be doing something else? _Anything_ else?"

There was no noticeable change in her expression, but her tone became far more serious. "If you'd spent five seconds thinking about someone other than yourself, you'd have noticed you're not the only one having a crap holiday."

"What are you talking about?"

"Spoken to Remus lately?"

OoOoOo

To say that Remus Lupin looked like shit was to leave no adequate phrase to describe his emotional state.

"Hello, Remus," Harry said, feigning cheeriness about as well as Remus himself. "Er…"

"Don't bother, Harry. We've lost the same person, the last thing you need to be doing is offering me your condolences…" He sighed and leaned back in his chair, giving Harry a small, tight smile. "I wish Molly would stop sending people to talk me…"

"She didn't. I just wanted to…er…see how you were getting on…"

Remus made a noise that might have been a laugh if a laugh could be called such while involving no emotion whatsoever and occurring when there was absolutely nothing to be laughed at. "As well as I can, I suppose."

"Ginny says you haven't been talking to anyone."

"Well, I don't plan on starting now." Harry stared at him for a long time, refusing to accept the dismissal. Remus stared back for a minute or two before giving in. "Look, I know you're trying to help. I know they're _all_ trying to help, but talking… what good is talking about someone I'm never going to see again? The only thing it ever does is remind me of how nothing is ever going to be the way it was."

"Sirius wouldn't have wanted—"

"It doesn't matter what he'd want anymore, does it?He's dead, Harry. I know you don't like hearing it, but he's dead and I—" He swiped furiously at his eyes and stared at the carpet with an angry intensity that was bound to give him a headache later. "I've got the rest of my life to spend without him."

"Well maybe that's better!" He didn't know where this rage was coming from; his grief for Sirius, his sympathy for Remus, the selfish tangle of his own feelings for Draco…none of those things were anger, and yet anger was what it sounded like. "Maybe losing him while everything was perfect is better than watching everything fall apart! Better than seeing him every day and knowing he doesn't want anything to do with you! At least if he's dead he won't ever have the chance to stop loving you!"

Remus let out a long breath. "Harry…I don't think you're talking about Sirius anymore." Harry looked away, more than a little ashamed, and muttered a low apology. "But even if you aren't…you should know that there is nothing that could ever make me wish he wasn't here right now. Nothing about what we had was perfect. Sirius couldn't even show his face in public, and my kind are nearly as bad off as mass-murderers anyway, but we've loved each other since we were thirteen years old and until six months ago that worked well enough. And if there's anyone important enough for you to compare to that, then I know the only thing Sirius would want is for you to make very, very sure they're gone before you decide to let them go."

Harry contemplated this silently for a very long time before he thought of anything to say.

_Bang._

"Remus—"

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

"—do you think—"

_Bangbangbangbangbangbangbangbang…_

"—I should—WILL SOMEONE _PLEASE_ ANSWER THAT BLOODY DOOR?"

The crashing like the firing of fist-sized bullets against the door went on in a steady stream for the entire length of time it took Harry to walk through the sitting room, past the kitchen, out through the dining room and up to the front door, which he threw open with unnecessary force and looked out of to find something that gave him a minor heart episode.

It was a person, or at least it had been before what must have been hours of freezing rain and high winds and apparently having been dragged backwards through several deciduous forests worth of outdoor muck.

And it did not look happy.

Draco Malfoy pulled a leaf out of his soggy mass of unnaturally blond hair and stared wordlessly at Harry for a very long time.

"It is very wet out here, Potter," he said with a scowl.

_

* * *

(a further a/n: Ah, yet another chapter which exists as it is solely because I couldn't figure out how to write it well. I do not like it. Not even a little. Reasons (as if you need them) are as follows:_

—_Way too short_

—_Reads like an emo twinkie filled with emo cream filling in an emostess snack cake of emo_

—_Thinly veiled excuse to work my OTP into a story that has nothing to do with it_

—_Seemingly random ending_

—_Did I mention it was emo? I did? Oh good. Because it is.)_


	10. Split Screen Sadness

**Disclaimer**: I never thought I'd have to think of so many ways to tell people I'm not a middle-aged British woman.

_(a/n: Right, so my author's note may be cut short today, my darling readers, for I am writing it while embroiled in the dangerous flames of an epic battle with a manic-depressive mass of malfunctioning metal, also known as Marvin the Paranoid Android, or as my mother would have it "Just call it a goddamn computer for Christ's sake". You may have heard that no one takes the Lord's name in vain more than Irish Catholics, and it is very, very true. For example, the phrases "Goddammit", "Jesus Christ" and "Holy Fuck" sprung immediately to mind while unplugging my beloved Marvin (again) as it froze itself into a second ice age for the fourth time this morning. But then I've been a godless heathen since the age of nine so this is hardly surprising._

_And this now officially has absolutely nothing to do with the story._

_Oh well. I'm going to go watch anime and figure out whether or not the fact that my nose is bleeding for no readily apparent reason means I have brain cancer.)_

* * *

Chapter 10: Split Screen Sadness 

_And I know it was me who called it over_

_But I still wish you'd fought me 'til your dying day_

_Don't let me get away…_

—_John Mayer_

* * *

Harry's first instinct was to slam the door in his face. 

"What do you think you're doing here, Malfoy?"

"Oh, Weasley and I have suddenly become best mates and I've come to spend Christmas in the welcoming bosom of my new adoptive family."

"Malfoy…" Harry said warningly.

"I'm here to see you, you git. Why else?"

"What makes you think I want to…" The words seemed to wander away from his mouth as he noticed several things at once.

The fact that Draco was using one arm to support another that no longer seemed capable of supporting itself.

That his hair was matted with something more than rainwater.

And how clearly blood stood out against such pale skin…

"Dra…Malfoy, your arm…"

"Oh this? It's fine. It sort of went _crack_ when he broke it but otherwise…"

"What _happened_?"

Draco paused and looked at him with a smile that contained nothing but sadness. "Would you be willing to believe that I fell off my broom?"

"That's _not funny_. Come in before you freeze to death and tell me what…well, just get in here."

Draco's face twisted with thinly veiled pain as he staggered through the door in what was better described as a fall than a walk.

He made it about six inches into the room without collapsing.

"Malfoy!"

It was pure instinct; he dove for the floor nearly as fast as Draco could fall to it, gathering the alarmingly weak form into his arms before he had time to think about it. And when he did think about it, he didn't care. _Even if he hates me, I won't leave him like this. I couldn't if I wanted to._

"I wonder," said Draco between very shallow breaths, "if now would be a bad time to tell you how much I missed you."

"You're such an idiot," Harry snapped back. "How can you be hurt like that and not say anything?"

"Because I didn't come here to bleed on Weasley's carpet. I came here to tell you I love you and I—"

"_Remus! Mrs. Weasley! Somebody! I need help!_"

"—didn't want to be interrupted."

"Shut up." He'd given up trying to stop the tears working their way out of his eyes. "Shut up, you stupid bastard, _shut up_. Did you think coming in here and passing out on my lap would stop me being mad at you? You—you—_don't you dare faint while I am talking to you, Draco Malfoy!_—you don't know what this is like for me. My life is never going to be normal again!" He was too caught up with ranting to notice the complete absurdity of this sentence. "You snog me in hallways, you molest me in locked rooms, you—you _rob me of my innocence_ and then break my heart and—and—and what the _hell_ am I supposed to do now? You've already left me once and—"

What might've come after "and—" was a mystery for the ages, because Draco had summoned some unexplained strength which was at least enough to pull Harry's face down to the level of his own and kiss him until he forgot what he'd been about to say.

"Stop talking, Harry." He winced but kept himself upright with fists knotted into the fabric of Harry's sweater. "I love you. Talk over me all you like, but I'm going to keep saying it until you listen. I love you. I love you. I love…"

"Stop it." At any other time or place, he might have been embarrassed at these girlish hysterics, but at this moment, on this floor, with this boy, he knew it didn't matter. "Stop talking like you're going to die, because you're not."

"Try telling that to my body, then. It doesn't seem to agree."

"Can you please stop being a sarcastic arse for once in your life and listen to me?" Draco blinked at him, coughed loudly for four and a half minutes, then stared silently into his eyes with uncomfortable intensity. "If you ever leave me like that again, you can die a _hundred_ times and I'm still going to find a way to beat the shit out of you, understand?"

Draco looked up at him, smiled faintly, and passed out.

OoOoOo

"Ugh."

"Dra…er…Malfoy…are you all right?"

"Take a wild guess."

"Shut up. Remus, he's awake."

Draco opened one eye very slowly as if he didn't want to see anything but the inside of his eyelids.

"So I'm not dead."

"No, but in about four seconds you're going to wish you were."

"What d'you mea—argh!"

"Don't breathe like that."

"Why the hell does that hurt so much?"

"Probably because you broke half a dozen ribs, came within a centimeter of puncturing your left lung, have a black eye, a broken arm, a fractured skull and were about four drops away from bleeding to death."

"Ah."

"Remus did what he could, but we're taking you to hospital in a minute."

Draco closed his eyes again, sighing and then cringing at the sharp pain it caused. "I don't want to go. They'll ask questions."

"I've got my own questions. Malfoy—"

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, all right…Draco, then…just tell me what—"

"Don't pretend you don't know, Harry. Father didn't like the idea of me disappearing for the sake of a whirlwind romance with The Boy Who Lived and seemed to think beating me to death was the right way of bringing me round."

"I'd guessed that. But how did you know where to—"

"You were supposed to get here in one piece, you miserable git," Ron snapped from the doorway.

"Is that anyway to talk to the injured, Weasley?"

"I invited you here to cheer Harry up, not scare him to death."

"Oh, well done. Now bugger off."

"This is _my_ house!"

"Yes, I can tell."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Shut up," Harry said tiredly. "Shut up, both of you."

He had suddenly got the terrible feeling the rest of his life was going to be a lot like this.

_

* * *

(a further a/n: Hurrah! I am finished. Well, nearly. All that's coming after this is a teeny little epilogue with all the substance of a fluffernutter sandwich because after like eighty friggin' chapters of emo I want a little marshmallow-y goodness. Nom nom nom…_

_I probably could have ended it here, only I'm not going to. If you don't approve of this…well, don't read the fucking epilogue, then.)_


	11. Love's Recovery

**Disclaimer**: I just saved a bunch of money on my car insurance by not being J.K. Rowling.

_(a/n: Okay, you people are way too excited about this epilogue. Lower your expectations a little. If I left you with questions, they're not going to be answered. If I left you with problems, they're not going to be resolved. It's just a weak little completely unnecessary time-skipping DH-style mini-epilogue with all the drama and deep meaning of marshmallow peep. Please be reminded that whenever you expect me to do anything properly, you are likely to be disappointed._

_On another note, I know that my choice in lyrics here is going to result in someone thinking I'm a lesbian. And in fact I act more like a stereotypical lesbian than most actual lesbians do, which is really quite sad if you take into consideration the fact that I'm straight. _

_Oh well. I'm going to go watch Sean Michaels kick the shit out of people on my DVR and iron my flannel work shirts now. )_

* * *

Epilogue: Love's Recovery

_Nobody get a lifetime rehearsal_

_As specks of dust we're universal_

_To let this love survive _

_Would be the greatest gift that we could give_

—_Indigo Girls_

* * *

"DRACO MALFOY, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

"Not if you can't catch me you're not."

Harry threw down his oven mitt and took a poorly aimed swipe at Draco's head as he darted across the room.

"That took all day! Put it back!"

"I'm sorry, Harry. I've developed a deep emotional attachment to this cake."

"I hope you don't have a deep emotional attachment to sex, because we won't be having any. Give me back my cake!"

"It's not your cake. It's Rosie's. You just made it."

"_Draco_!"

His face split into an irritating grin and he licked an entire side of the cake in a way that should for no reason ever be applied to a child's confectionary item.

"That's disgusting and I'm going to murder you."

"Because I'm reminding you so vividly of last night?"

"No, because I don't want you molesting the cake I've been making for the last six and a half hours."

"So you're saying I should molest you instead?"

"_No_! Now put that damn cake down or so help me—"

"You'd think something you spent all day making would taste better."

"DRACO!"

Around the corner, just out of sight of the kitchen, two small figures stared at the two grown men acting more like children than they did.

"What are they doing?"

"I have no idea. But I think Uncle Draco's going to eat my birthday cake."

"What does molest mean?"

"Er…"

"What are you two monsters doing back here?"

Hugo and Rose jumped. Draco had somehow managed to sneak up behind them without either noticing, but Rose was quick to recover and turned around with her hands on her hips in a way alarmingly reminiscent of her mother. "You've gotten spit all over my cake, Uncle Draco."

"Yeah. Disgusting, eh?"

"You're gross."

"Oh really?"

"Yes really."

"Hmm. Well, I suppose then I should spit all over your birthday present as well so it'll match, shouldn't I? I'll just go and—"

"Ew! No, no, no, don't!"

"I'll just fetch it right out of the closet. Come on, Hugo, you can help me spit."

"Cool!"

"You've got such a way with children, Draco," said Harry irritably. His shirt was coated with various baking materials and he had a streak of chocolate frosting across his face. Draco had clearly been the victor of their confrontation.

"Nasty little buggers," Draco said seriously, swooping Hugo up into the air and tickling him mercilessly. "Can't stand them. Let's never have any."

"That should be fairly easy."

"Uncle Harry, what's a molest?"

Harry flushed bright red. Draco burst out laughing.

"I can demonstrate if you like."

"Don't you dare—"

And as had happened at least once a day for well over a decade, the rest of Harry's sentence was cut off by an intense kiss. Harry rolled his eyes but didn't bother pushing him away.

"Mummy! Dad! They're _snogging_ again!"

"Quit poisoning my children with that crap, Malfoy!"

"Shut up, Weasley."

"We're not coming here anymore!"

"You say that every time."

Digging through the closet to defend whatever gift her maniac uncles had gotten her, Rose Weasley sighed loudly.

Grown-ups could be so _weird_.

_

* * *

(a further a/n: I always like to end my stories on a sort of "Huh?" note, leaving you wondering what the hell you just read and what the point of reading it actually was. And I feel I have accomplished that here today. Mainly I just wrote this because a) my mother has put me on one of her crazed Nazi diets so this syrupy crap is the most access to sugar I'm going to get, b) so you know that Draco and Harry lived happily ever after in an unbearably cheesy way that makes me throw up a little when I read it over, and c) as usual I didn't have anything better to do with my time._

_So where do we go from here? Well, I might take a break to work on my own fiction considering I haven't written anything more original than a grocery list since September, but given that I've already started work on my next fic this is probably unlikely happen. Such is the story of my life._

_Thank you for your time, dear readers._

_Please don't forget I exist.)_


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